Green Diamonds (Spamano)
by TheOnlyPersonLikeMe
Summary: The dissolution of a country is a sad time... what would you do if your love was in risk of it? Spamano oneshot, Definitely not historically accurate (I have also posted this on my wattpad; @rez270)


**Aha... A few of my stories (Including this one) were accidentally coded... Sorry about that if you read them before I realised.**

"S-Spain!" I yelled, running into his room. Tears spilled down my cheeks as what I saw in front of me confirmed the terrible rumours.

There he lay on his bed, pale faced and weakened, awaiting his inevitable fate.

"Romano..." he murmured, and I dropped to my knees beside his resting place, grasping his hand.

"Don't die! Please!" I sobbed, "Francis told me you were sick! I don't want it to happen to you... what happened to Gilbert... don't..."

Spain slipped his hand out from under mine and touched my cheek gently.

"Roma, my time has come. I've long since outlived my stay here. I-" he was cut off by a fit of coughing, and I winced, "...I've been ill for a very long time now."

"Then why didn't you tell me, bastard?" Crying, I batted his hand away.

He stared at me with his green eyes, once vibrant and joyful, now dull and depressed.

"I was scared. Scared that the very knowledge of my approaching death would shatter you or make you isolate yourself; I didn't want to hurt you."

Squeezing my leaking eyes shut, I attempted to block out everything around me. Surely, this was all just some twisted nightmare, and I'd wake up at any moment... see Spain again, happy and healthy...

More coughing. I opened my eyes in time to watch him spit blood onto his hand. His final hour was dragging, and I hated it.

"Just die," I said, rising to my feet.

He looked up.

"P-Pardon?"

"I can't stand seeing you suffer anymore. Wishing for you to live would be the most selfish thing in the world, and..." I choked back a sob, "...I love you. I love you so much, Spain, and I don't want to see you like this. I want you to be happy, but if you're this ill, then you can never be happy in this life again, right?"

I felt weak arms encircling me, pulling me into a hug. Spain had heaved himself up so he was sitting of the edge of the bed, arms around my waist.

"But you're here, Romano," Spain murmured into my chest, "and when I'm with you, I'm always happy."

My tears fell onto his chestnut-brown hair as I lay him down back onto the bed. while I was bent over, he leant upwards, kissing my forehead, before I re-took his now bloody hand.

Spain smiled.

"I want to die with you in my arms," he murmured.

"Okay," Slowly, I moved and lay on his rising and falling chest, hand still clasped in his. I was scared I would hurt him with my weight but he obviously didn't mind.

Feeling his other hand rise to hold my head, I wanted to live this moment over and over again. I wanted to pause time and stay there, forever, in him frail arms.

"I love you, Romano."

"I love you too," I sobbed, tears staining his shirt, "I love you I love you I love you."

Feeling his hand squeeze mine once more, I knew this was it. Our eyes locked for one last time before he closed them.

I felt his hand go limp.

His chest stopped rising and falling.

He didn't open his beautiful eyes again.

Spain was gone.

With an ugly cry of anguish, I rested my head on his still chest, heaving in gulps of air. I felt dizzy, and my head was throbbing. My whole world felt like it was breaking apart. Because it was.

Slowly, emerald green sparks, the shade of his eyes, began to ripple along his feet as they began to disappear. I tightened my grip on his hand as I watched his body dissolve into billions of tiny green diamonds, floating way above my head. The hand I was holding reduced to nothing more than green firefly-like diamonds. I tried to catch them, but they slipped from my grasp.

Soon, I was only left with a pile of clothes on a wooden bed.

I didn't care what happened next. I wouldn't have batted an eyelash if the world ended there and then. Because Spain was dead.

He was dead.

Dead.

My sobs were loud and uncontrolled as I took in everything that had happened.

Why Spain? Why Spain? Why? Why?

I heard the door open as my brother, Veneziano, rushed in. He saw me on the bed clutching Spain's clothes, the only piece of him I had left, and ran towards me.

"Romano," Veneziano whispered, pulling me into an embrace. I cried into his shoulder, gripping onto his small frame, and I heard him crying too. Spain had been a good friend to him.

Everything I knew was gone.

I leant forwards, pressing my lips against my brother's forehead, like Spain had to me.

Feliciano was the only thing I cared about that was still alive.

And by God, I would make sure that no harm would come to him.

And that Potato bastard would never die.

So he wouldn't ever go through with what I had just experienced.


End file.
